


Where Is Thy Sting

by crushondeanlikeafairy



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arrow Family, Bad Ideas, Character Death, Child Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Family Feels, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreaking, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Married Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Not Canon Compliant, Oliver Queen Needs a Hug, POV Felicity Smoak, Sorry Not Sorry, Team as Family, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, William Clayton (Arrow) & Felicity Smoak Bonding, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 05:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushondeanlikeafairy/pseuds/crushondeanlikeafairy
Summary: Felicity was sure Oliver had felt every pain that there was to feel. Unfortunately, she was wrong and this time it wasn't something she could fix.





	1. Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem "When I Think of Death" by Maya Angelou.
> 
> Ok, listen. I'm a bad person. I can't believe I wrote this. Seriously, heed the tags. I like to hurt Oliver! I'm sorry!
> 
> Note: I'm not quite sure where this is placed. Definitely does not fit with the season 6 finale. It probably fits best in the 1st half of season 6.

_"There are moments that the words don't reach_  
_There is suffering too terrible to name_  
_You hold your child as tight as you can_  
_And push away the unimaginable"_

_-Hamilton_ by Lin-Manuel Miranda

 

The silence was deafening. It cracked down on the room, pressing in on every occupant. Felicity was beginning to feel like she couldn't breathe like her lungs were refusing to draw in air, and that at any moment she'd lose her carefully crafted composure and it would be over. She needed to stay strong, not even allowing so much as a fissure to find it's way through her mask. Deep down though, she knew she was kidding herself. It was already over.

Nobody had seen Oliver in two days. It wasn't anything new. When the pain gets too much, he runs away. He hides. He'd done it multiple times before with Tommy, with his mother... the list was endless. Felicity's breath hitched. This wasn't anything like that. This was so much worse.

Everyone was hurting. The funeral was later today.

Felicity looked up at the bunker, glancing at all the pain-stricken faces scattered around the bunker.

Dinah, Curtis, and Rene were sitting on the steps to the platform. The Canary was on the top step, the boys just below her. They looked tired. Felicity could tell even from across the room. The trio was slumped over, their red-rimmed eyes staring off into the distance. Dinah, in her plain black dress, was rubbing her hand soothingly down Curtis' back as the man struggled to hold in tears. She had draped her lace shawl over him. It provided no warmth, but Felicity supposed it was meant as a gesture of comfort. Curtis had pulled it tightly around him and had both his fists tightly wrapped around it. Rene was running his hands up and down his thighs nervously. He never was good at sitting still. Wild Dog was a man of action, Felicity knew that, but there was no place for Wild Dog here today.

Quentin was leaning against the wall opposite the team's conference table where Felicity was sitting. She could barely see the face of Thea, where the young woman was buried in the Deputy Mayor's arms. He had wrapped her so tightly in a hug the moment he had entered the bunker, immediately sensing her distress like the good father that he was, and hadn't let her go since. Thea's sobs had died down, but she'd made no move to leave the embrace. Felicity had never been more grateful for Quentin than in that moment. Not just Thea, he was holding everyone together. The hacker could see his own grief buried in his eyes, but he was staying strong for everyone else and Felicity was eternally grateful. She just didn't have it in her.

Diggle was beside her, as he always was, with his head buried in his hands. He'd be still and silent the entire time, sitting tensely in his chair. Felicity knew he was worried about Oliver, just like she was. And really, that's what was holding Felicity together right now. Worrying about Oliver was normal, she knew how to deal with that. Focusing entirely on that worry distracted her from her own grief.

She turned her head back to stare at her hands, where they were fiddling with her glasses on the table. Her blonde hair fell forward around her shoulders as she tilted and she could see the frayed ends in her peripheral vision. It had been a long few days, and she hadn't been able to work up the energy to brush her hair or even put on make-up, making her red and puffy eyes painfully noticeable. Felicity couldn't find it in her to care.

When she heard a snap, she focused in on her hands once more and realized that she had accidentally broken one of the arms off her glasses. She sighed and dropped them onto the table, a small clatter sound following the action. A rough, calloused hand gripped her own tightly. Looking up, her eyes met John's own tired ones. He smiled softly, giving her hands a small squeeze and then pulled the remains of her glasses further away from her before she could inadvertently cause more damage. Felicity did what she could to muster a thankful smile in return, but she was sure it came out as more of a grimace.

The pair sat in silence for a minute more before she finally found the energy to speak, even though it was only a whisper.

"Oliver needs to be here."

John looked down at his hands, picking at his nails for a moment, before turning his head back towards her. His voice just as small as her own.

"I know."

And that was that. There was nothing they could do. If Oliver didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found. It wasn't right though. He could miss his best friend's funeral. He could miss his mother's funeral. Felicity understood that it hurt. She  _felt_   _that pain._ But this... this wasn't right. He  _couldn't_ miss this. She sniffled, bringing one of her hands up to wipe her nose.

"Do you need tissues?"

"No," she rasped, her voice going out on her, "I don't have any more tears left."

It hurt so much. There was a hole in her chest like someone had ripped through her and torn out her heart. It was agony and two days later it hadn't subsided in the slightest bit. The world was falling apart and nothing made sense anymore. Where did she go from here? How was she supposed to deal with losing someone so important? Someone so innocent and pure. Felicity always knew the world was a cold and cruel place but to this extent? It was one thing hearing about it on the news, but to witness it in person...

Felicity had been tainted forever. She could never be clean.

And Oliver...

She let out a sob at the thought of her husband, alone somewhere in a dark room, trying his best to deal with an agony that he wasn't equipped to deal with. The image wrenched the cavity in her heart even wider, further and further from the possibility of ever being whole again. But true to her word, no tears fell. Her well had gone dry.

A soft ding echoed through the bunker, and all heads turned toward the elevator as it's cold doors slid open.

"Oliver," Felicity whispered, rising slowly from her seat. The energy for her to run to him just wasn't in her. She was drained.

Everyone rose to their feet, heading toward the elevator behind her in a mockery of a procession.

Oliver exited the elevator, walking as though his feet were too heavy. His eyes were vacant, staring off at something she could never hope to see. He looked lost. She knew the feeling.

After taking a few steps inside, he turned to her and she witnessed just the slightest bit of light return to his eyes and he saw her. The archer moved toward her, the world moving in slow motion. And then, just like that, he could go no further. His legs collapsed and he hit his knees, the crack punching through the silence. Oliver's chest heaved as sob after sob broke free, and he curled in on himself, pressing his hands to his face.

She ran to him then.

Felicity collapsed in front of him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. The top of his head rested on her chest, and he wrapped his hands around her biceps, holding on for dear life. It hurt, but that was okay. The pain gave her clarity. She held him as tightly as she could, providing a firm presence of comfort. Offering no room for doubt that she would disappear too.

The others kept their distance, wary of breaking the spell. Felicity felt them though, she knew they were close, gathering in a semi-circle behind her. Available in case they were needed. She didn't pay them too much mind as she made it her sole focus to ease her husband's pain. If that meant taking some of it into herself, then so be it.

"He's gone," Oliver cried after he gained control of his sobs once more, though pain still wracked his voice.

Felicity remained silent, allowing him to let it out.

" _William is gone."_


	2. Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hue Hue Hue. The evil genius continues to flow through my veins XD

_"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."_

-C. S. Lewis

The funeral was... the funeral was an ordeal. Just getting there was an ordeal.

Paparazzi are animals. Ask anyone, and they'd tell you. And if Felicity had ever had a doubt in her heart about that, watching them hound a grieving father solidified that. Watching them stand outside the cemetery, waiting for the car to pull up, and then crowd around the car so the doors were blocked as they took photos through the windows... Felicity started seeing red. To his credit, Oliver didn't really react. He seemed too tired. Felicity had helped him get ready, finding his suit and doing up his tie for him. After his little break down earlier, he hadn't said a word.

John picked up his old role of bodyguard, running over when he had gotten out of his own car and pushing the photographers out of the way to clear a path. Their actual driver was helping too, with what little he could. When one of the cameras fell and shattered on the ground, Felicity didn't feel an ounce of pity. The crowd backed away, if only a little, and it was enough for the Oliver and Felicity to get out of their limo. John clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder, angling his body so as to shield Oliver from the prying eyes. Felicity held tightly to Oliver's other arm, afraid if she let go that she'd be swept away in the crowd.

She heard the driver shouting at the crowd to get back. She heard Rene doing the same, but with more colorful language. Calling them poor excuses for human beings. ' _How could you do this to a man who just lost his kid?"_ Felicity couldn't say she felt bad when she caught the ashamed looks that a select few let pass over their features.

They at least had the decency to not actually enter the cemetery, Felicity would give them that.

As soon as they were free from the crowd, moving further into the grounds, Felicity looked over her shoulder and watched Rene reach out and grab Zoe's hand. She was wearing a black dress with little red flowers on it, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Wild Dog pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her and holding on for dear life. She saw that look in his eyes, the look that she felt she would wear eternally now. He was thinking about what it would be like to lose his daughter. Lose her like they had lost William. Felicity wanted to go to him, tell him not to think like that. To cherish the time he does have, and to never let her go. But she didn't dare leave Oliver's side. He needed her more.

Lyla pulled up and made her way through the crowd of journalists, and Diggle went to greet her. They spoke quietly for a minute and then the pair joined the group of mourners.

The ceremony was beautiful. Felicity had made sure of that. She hadn't had much time, Jewish custom dictates the funeral must be as soon as possible after death and nobody really wanted to drag this one. So, she had done what she could in as little time as possible. It would be a small funeral, only their closest friends and family would be in attendance. They didn't want to risk anyone unsavory showing up, and anybody who wasn't deemed 'close' had no right being there anyway.

Neither William nor his father was religious, and to be honest, she wasn't really either. Felicity didn't eat kosher, she didn't go to synagogue on Shabbat. But adding a few special touched from her religion had made her feel better and nobody was going to begrudge her that. So William rested in a simple pine box, dressed solely in white. Nobody would know. They had elected to not have an open-casket funeral. But it was the thought that counted. And there was a photo of William in an ornate frame, resting atop the coffin. He was smiling and happy and so very alive.

She had found these lovely red roses in a florist that the parlor had recommended. Alone they weren't unique but accompanied with the yellow daisies she had ordered, they were magnificent. William had always like the Flash. She thought it would be a nice little touch of humor on a dark day. Something to make William laugh, wherever he was now.

Barry Allen was waiting off to the side, standing in his poorly-fit suit, fidgeting with his hands in front of him. The grieving couple moved to greet him.

"Thanks for coming," Felicity smiled, releasing her husband's arm so she could go in for a hug.

"I wouldn't be late to this," Barry answered earnestly, looking toward Oliver and holding out his arms, "I know your not a hugger-"

Oliver didn't let him finish, reaching forward and grabbing his friend tightly. He rested his chin on Barry's shoulder, and Felicity could see that there were tears in his eyes again. He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, and the droplets broke free, falling down and soaking Barry's jacket.

After a moment, Oliver pat Barry's back and the pair broke apart. They looked at each other for a second, before the speedster stiffly clapped Oliver on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging nod, then went to find his seat. When Oliver made no move to do the same, Felicity reached for his hand and led them over.

Each fold-out chair had a torn black ribbon on it, and everyone picked there's up and pinned it to their shirts as they took their seats. The rabbi came forward, greeted the parents and expressed his deepest condolences. Oliver nodded hollowly and then the ceremony began.

It droned on for a bit. Felicity suspected nobody was really listening. It hurt too much. The rabbi read some psalms. He gave a speech about what a crime it was for someone so young to be taken from the world.  _You're preaching to the choir,_ Felicity thought.

Then it was time for a eulogy. All eyes turned to Oliver as he was invited up to the stand. He turned to look at her.

"I didn't write anything," he said softly, squeezing her hand where it had not left his. She took her free one and pressed it to his chest.

"That's okay. Say something from the heart."

After several seconds of silence, Oliver stood and slowly made his way up. He paused briefly, looking at the photo and Felicity became worried that he wasn't going to be able to do this. Eventually, he faced the small crowd, gripping the edges of the podium tightly in both hands, and took a deep breath.

"William was... quite a surprise. As you all know," he smiled fondly and it gave the group permission to laugh, "I guess a lot of children are. But that never takes away from how important they are. I first saw him in a coffee shop in Central City. I saw him standing there with his mother and I  _knew_ that... that was my kid. And I have loved him with every fiber of my being since that day. He was the best part of myself. William was a good and brave kid. Stronger than any kid his age has the right to be. He-"

Oliver paused, and Felicity saw tears hit the podium. He was struggling to hold it together. Using every bit of strength he had left to keep the pieces of himself as one.  _You can do it,_ Felicity urged him,  _Do it for William._

She told herself that he heard her silent plea because a moment later he stood up straight and squared his shoulders, ready to face the music.

"I don't know how to do this. You're supposed to sum up somebody's life in just a few sentences. How do you do that with somebody so important? William was more than just a speech at the end of-"

 _His life._ Felicity heard the end of that sentence. Judging by the solemn heads bowing around her, everyone did. Oliver dropped his own head, shutting his eyes against the stares in the crowd. Against the pity and the despair coming toward him in waves. And then he whispered,

"He was everything. And now he's gone."

Oliver gathered himself and slowly made his way back to Felicity's side. He sat down and grabbed her hand once more, squeezing her fingers together in a vice-like grip. She couldn't stay though. It was her turn. She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, then rose steadily, taking slow and deliberate steps toward the podium. Felicity left her purse in her seat but made sure to grab a crumbled piece of paper from the side pocket first. She had written hers out late last night as she laid alone in her empty bed when sleep just wouldn't come. It had needed to be perfect. She knew Oliver, bless him, wouldn't have it in him to give a proper eulogy. She knew the task would be too much and she honestly so proud that he had found the courage to even speak at all, to even be here right now.

Resting her palms on the top of the podium, she smoothed out the piece of paper. She adjusted her glasses, made sure her last-minute ponytail was at least a semblance of nicety. She looked out at the supportive faces all staring back. The back row: Rene with his arm wrapped around his daughter's shoulders, feeling in his soul every word they said. Dinah and Curtis beside him, holding each other up. Lyla and John grasping each other's hand so tightly, longing to be with their own son right now. The front row: Quentin sitting beside Thea where she was leaning on him once again. But her hand was reaching out to Oliver on her other side, holding onto his own with as much force she could muster after her coma. And Oliver. His blue eyes boring into her soul as he looked at her with so much hope it made her heart ache. He was counting on her, she knew, to fix this. She didn't know how, but she would do what she could.

So, she began to speak, her raspy voice ringing out through the tombstones.

"Hi, everyone, I'm Felicity," she started, chuckling softly, "That sounds like this is an AA meeting."

The soft laughter reaching back to her was encouraging so she trudged on.

"I didn't have the privilege of knowing William long. And for a part of that time, I was actually trying my best to fill the role of step-mother. Judging by our many late nights filled with video games where our dinners consisted of ice cream, I was not doing a very good job. But, that time I did get to spend with him was a blessing. Even at thirteen, he had so much to teach me. I started off my part in his life as his tutor and he was the one teaching me. Not in the math department, but where it mattered. He taught me about courage. He lost his mother, his real one, earlier this year. And, as can be expected of anyone going through so much so young, he was struggling. But I watched him push through, I watched him try. He did his best to get caught up in school, achieving all A's in the process. I watched him continue to go to sleep every night, even though it often ended in waking with nightmares. That boy was fighting every day. And  _that_ is something to behold."

She paused then, gathering her composure.  _I need to stay strong. Don't lose it._

"If it's alright, I'd love to tell you all about the time Oliver and I took William to the Star City Aquarium. He had a science project, some extra credit thing. He was always doing the extra credit."

She saw Oliver smile, if only a little bit, and it gave her the courage she needed to dive into a happy memory that had turned sour.

"Oliver gave him a certain amount of money to spend on souvenirs or whatever caught his eye at the aquarium. We walked around all day, finding the fish on the worksheet and filling it out. Answering every question. Putting more detail than was necessary. He... particularly liked the otters. Because they held hands while they slept, so they wouldn't lose each other. That was important to him. But he never spent any of that money. And when we were leaving the aquarium, there was a homeless man sitting outside on the curb. William walked up to him and handed the man all of his spending money. Every last penny."

She heard a choking sound and she knew Oliver was crying again, but she had to finish.

"That is the kind of person that William was. The world was a brighter, kinder place with him in it. And although we all knew him very briefly, we should all thank our lucky stars that were given that gift. Because all of our lives shine a little brighter, simply because he was in it."

Felicity crumpled up her paper once more in her fist, then stepped back down to her seat. Wordlessly, she reached out and grabbed Oliver's hand, prying open he fingers. She placed the paper inside, and closed his hand around it, looking up to his tear-filled eyes. He looked down at his hand briefly, but he held on to the paper and he didn't dare let go.

The rabbi finished up the service and then Diggle, Rene, Quentin, and Oliver all helped with lowering the coffin into the ground. Everyone gathered around, reaching down to grab their own handful of dirt, and then tossing it over the coffin.

The group slowly made it back to their cars, every one of them silent as the grave. Oliver remained with Felicity beside him in this as in all things. As he stood, staring at the photo that now stood on the ground beside the grave, she could see him struggling. He didn't know how to deal with this. He had said once that he didn't know how many more people he could handle losing and Felicity was afraid that William was the last straw. That he finally had reached his breaking point. If that were true, there wasn't enough glue in the world to help her piece him back together.  _All the king's horses and all the king's men,_ she thought bitterly.

"Oliver, honey," she said after a while, running her hand soothingly up and down his back, "We should get going."

He didn't move. He didn't peel his eyes away from that photo. Stepping between him and it, she reached up and ran bother her hands through his hair, slowly tilting his head down so his forehead met her own. She simply breathed with him for what felt like an eternity, then she spoke to the air, letting the wind carry her words away.

"You need to keep moving."

"I don't know how," he answered, voice cracking. His hands came up to grab her shoulders, and he leaned into the embrace, allowing her to support him.

"We'll figure it out together."

They stood there forever, holding each other. Felicity had been right, in marriage you share things and you lean on your partner. They would share in this pain, and that would help. He stepped back eventually, nodding his thanks to her.

He turned to the stone erected at the grave beside William's. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface on top, kneeling in front of it. Oliver dusted off the words.

"I'm sorry, Samantha. I failed."

Felicity stood behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder. They had a long way to go.


	3. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how long I intend this to go on??? It was supposed to be a one-shot but I couldn't get it all out in one sitting. Too depressing. I wanna say there'll be five total.

_"Grief is the price we pay for love."_

-Queen Elizabeth II

 

The loft had been cleaned up. Felicity had moved all of the Helix Dynamics stuff out of the way to make room for the wake. She had put out flowers to liven up the atmosphere and set up a table with snacks and paper plates. She had even opened up a few bottles of her good wine and put out some glasses for everyone. It hadn't surprised her when it disappeared within the first half hour and she had to grab two more. In the city, not many stars were visible but the lights from the city shone through the window and it was like they may as well have been floating through space. A beautiful journey but lost, so lost. 

Oliver wasn't mingling. He didn't touch the food and he didn't have any wine. He excused himself and went, alone, out onto that distant balcony. Felicity could see him through the window every time she passed by. At first, he had been leaning on the railing, looking over the city that he loved so much. But eventually he had sunk to the ground and he now sat on the cold cement, leaning back against the wall.

She wanted to go to him. At the very least, bring him a jacket. It was freezing outside and he was in a thin suit. But at the same time, she wanted to give him time. This was unchartered territory for both of them. Felicity felt like she was drowning and some selfish part of her wanted to take stock and keep her own head above water. She knew there was nothing wrong with that, but it didn't stop her from feeling the guilt.

"Felicity!"

The blonde spun around, a few drops of wine falling from her glass, to see her mother running toward her. Thinking quickly, she set her glass on the closest flat surface and opened her arms, letting her mom crash into her. It was comforting, the smell of her mother's shampoo hitting her nose, the way she fit perfectly in her mother's arms. There was something inherently safe about it that would never change, no matter how old Felicity got.

"I'm so sorry, babycakes," Donna exclaimed, leaning back but not out of the embrace, bring a hand up to brush a piece of Felicity's hair from her face, "My flight got delayed. You would not believe the hell I rained down, but they wouldn't listen."

Felicity let out a snort, "Mom, they can't just fix a delay because you get upset."

Donna stepped back and adjusted the hem of her skin-tight dress, brushing her own hair back, "Yes, well. It was worth a shot. I had somewhere important to be. Oh, baby, I feel so bad."

"It's okay, mom," Felicity reassured her, resting a hand on her shoulder, "It wasn't your fault."

"Where's Oliver?" Donna asked as a sad expression overtook her face, dropping her voice as she did so.

Felicity nodded toward the balcony and watched as the sad look turned into utter heartbreak when her mother saw him sitting outside in the cold.

"Should I go talk to him?" she said, not really asking as she was already on her way over. Felicity had to reach out and grab her arm.

"No. He's..." she trailed off, eyes focusing in on her husband, "I'm trying to give him some space."

"Felicity," her mother admonished, "He doesn't need space. He needs  _you._ "

She froze, unable to break her gaze, taking in her mother's words. Donna Smoak was made of many amazing things and even though sometimes she was the most irritating human being in existence, she always found a way to say  _exactly_ what Felicity needed to hear. Wordlessly, Felicity gave her mother another tight hug, and then made her way out to the balcony. On the way, the grabbed the blue crochet blanket from the back of the couch. 

The cold wind hit her square in the face as she opened the door, and she couldn't suppress the shiver that forced its way down her body. Oliver didn't react to her presence in any way, so she took that as her invitation to sit down beside him. She unfolded the blanket, and wrapping it around his shoulders and then her own, so they were huddled underneath together. Then she leaned against him, taking his left arm and hugging it tightly as she lay her head down on his shoulder. With her legs tucked underneath her, she was well and truly cuddling him and the warmth chased the cold winter air away.

They sat there together for what felt like an eternity before either of them moved.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go on from here, Felicity. How am I supposed to live every day with this?"

"Well..." she answered carefully, picking her words as carefully as if she were trying to take apart a delicate motherboard, "The weird thing about something like this happening, is that life actually goes on. And you don't know how to live through this, but that doesn't matter, because the world is going to keep turning. That hollow you feel in your chest won't go away entirely. It's impossible for things to be like they were before, so you and I have to figure out a new way to go on."

Everything was silent again, only the sounds of the city below them breaking through it.

"I'm tired. Can we go home?"

His voice sounded so small. The world was too big for him right now and Felicity worried that he'd lose his way soon if he hadn't already.

"Of course."

Felicity stood, the cement beneath her causing her muscles to go stiff, and readjusted the blanket so it was wrapped entirely around Oliver. They made their way back inside. Felicity stopped to say goodbye to everybody and ask Curtis to lock up when everyone left. She told her mother that she'd call her tomorrow. Oliver stood silently behind her as she went about her goodbyes. He didn't initiate any contact, but when somebody tried to hug him he allowed it. He had received an embrace from nearly everyone by the time she was done. The last one was John, who promised that he was just a phone call away if Oliver needed him.

They drove home in silence.

When they reached their apartment door, Felicity unlocked it and Oliver shuffled inside, dropping the crochet blanket on the floor. He reminded her of a ghost, silent as the grave. He surprised her when he didn't go to their bedroom, but rather William's. Oliver pushed the sliding door open, pulled back the covers and climbed inside the bed. Felicity wasn't sure what to do in this situation. Tell him to brush his teeth? Make sure he changes into pajamas? She wasn't his mother. No, she had tried being a mother and it hadn't ended well for either of them. She decided to do the only thing she could do. She toed off her heels and padded silently toward the bed. She lay down on the other side so she was facing him, resting her head on the pillow. After a moment's deliberation, she rolled onto her back and reached out to pull Oliver toward her. He let her and soon she had him in her arms, his head laying on her chest. She took the hand that he was resting on and ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. She felt him work the arm he was laying on under her back so he could bring it around a hug her in return.

He fell asleep like that, a few stray tears soaking into her dress. Felicity didn't. She had to sit vigil. She had to be ready. Because the dreams would eventually wake him, and when they did... she'd be there.


	4. Reflection

 

_"Sometimes it's OK if the only thing you did today was breath."_

_-_ Yumi Sakugawa

 

Golden rays of sunlight broke through the quiet of the morning, gently waking Felicity from what had not been a peaceful rest. She hadn't slept for long, so she hadn't had the chance to dream, but she knew it had been fitful. The comforter on the floor could testify to that.

Oliver was still asleep. Nightmares had torn him from his rest a few times throughout the night, but Felicity had been there and he had fallen back in relatively quickly each time, the space between getting shorter and shorter as exhaustion began to win out. Though it was unusual for her to be awake before him, Felicity decided to let her husband sleep in. She'd call it an earlier Hannukah gift.

She pushed back the covers that remained on the bed and stretched her shoulders and back out, grabbing her wrists and reaching backward. Satisfied when she heard a soft pop, she stood and went to find her robe. It was soft and fluffy and pink and exactly what she needed at that moment. Felicity put on some pajamas to go underneath it because that dress was getting uncomfortable and she just couldn't wear it any longer. Once she found the robe in her closet, she put her feet in her slippers and went toward the kitchen, stopping to pick the blue blanket off the floor where it still lay by the front door. It wasn't likely that Oliver would eat, but she figured she'd make breakfast just in case. Who knows, maybe her comically bad attempt at scrambled eggs would cheer him up.

As expected, the cooking didn't go well. In her tired daze, she had cracked an egg open directly into the trash can and then stared into for a good solid minute trying to figure what she had just done. The eggs were edible though, so she took some for herself and left the rest on the counter for Oliver when he decided to get out of bed.

Once it got to be noon, Felicity got tired of sitting by herself in a quiet apartment and went to go check on him. He was awake, he just hadn't gotten out of bed.

She left to grab the now cold scrambled eggs and came back with them and a glass of water. Placing them on the bedside table, she knelt down beside the bed and brushed his hair back.

"You want to eat something?"

He simply shook his head, tightening his arms around the pillow he was laying on.

"Ok. Can you at least drink some water? Dehydration is so not fun."

When she once again received no answer, she sighed softly and rose to her feet. Taking the eggs, but leaving the water, she went back to the kitchen and tossed them in the trash can. The silence was unbearable, so she plopped down onto the couch, wrapping herself in the blue blanket she had placed there. Turning it on, she found herself watching the channel 5 news.

It was mostly boring stuff. A few cute puppies. Two cops shot in an armed robbery. The usual stuff. Then it came on.

"In other news, Mayor Oliver Queen attended his son, William Clayton's, funeral yesterday."

She wanted to change the channel, but her eyes were glued to the screen as the showed photos those vultures from the cemetery had taken of the funeral procession making their way to the service. Then it stopped on a photo of William, standing proudly with his father's arm around him, and she felt the tears coming again.

"It was a closed funeral, with only the Mayor's closest friends and family in attendance. The thirteen-year-old boy was shot twice on the steps of city hall just three days ago, taking one directly in his heart. Sources say he would not have suffered for more than a few seconds. Mayor Queen was walking down the steps with his son when it occurred, and there has been some speculation as to whether or not the shooting was an assassination attempt. At this time, there are no leads as to-"

The screen turned black suddenly and Felicity looked over her shoulder to see Oliver standing there, fidgeting with the remote in his hands, still staring at the tv. She half expected him to throw it like he did when he was in pain. But instead he gently set it back down on the arm of the couch where he had picked it up from, and then silently went back into his son's room. She watched him go, guilting tearing at what was left of her heart.

"I should've changed the channel," she whispered harshly to herself.

She let it go on like that for another day before she decided that it couldn't go on any longer. The silence was crushing her, and she feared that if she left Oliver alone in his sadness for too long that she would lose him to it forever. So she made her way over to her purse and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found the name that she was looking for, and pressed it to her ear.

"Hey," she said when the ringing stopped, "Are you busy?"

Less than 20 minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Felicity rose from the couch and let Quentin inside, accepting the hug that he offered to her.

"Where is he?" Quentin asked, immediately getting down to business.

"William's room."

Quentin let out his breath, looking down at his feet briefly.

"Alright, get him a change of clothes. I've got an idea."

Felicity ran to her bedroom and rummaged through Oliver's half of the dresser until she found his favorite sweater and a pair of jeans. When she returned she found that Quentin had convinced Oliver to get out of bed and at the very least drink a few glasses of water. After another minute of coaxing from the both of them, Oliver when to change into the clothes that Felicity had picked for him.

The pair sat in silence until the archer came back, his hair still unbrushed but he had at least rinsed his face. He didn't bother putting on socks as Quentin practically pushed him to put on his shoes and get out the door. Just before shutting the door, the Deputy Mayor popped his head back through.

"I'll bring him back in a bit. Try not to worry," he said, a joking tone in his voice. He knew he was asking something impossible.

Then it was quiet once more, and she was alone.

She took the time to get in a quick shower to wash her greasy hair, and even brushed it out afterward. She got right back into pajamas, but she counted it as a win.

Her mother came over a little over an hour later, bringing real, semi-edible food from Big Belly Burger. Felicity wasn't that hungry, but she appreciated the gesture and she forced herself to eat the meal anyway if only so the discomfort of a full stomach would make her feel something aside from the sadness nipping at her heels.

They sat together at the dining room table, talking about when Felicity was a kid. Silly things that she used to do, like sticking her tongue out when she was drawing, or eating play-doh.

"You were a genius, honey," Donna laughed, "But you still did the same stupid things other kids do. I miss that little girl."

"I wonder if William did that. Sticking his tongue to draw."

She felt a drop on her hand and looked down, realizing that she was crying again.

"Oh, honey," her mother consoled, getting out of her chair to wrap her arms around Felicity, "It'll be alright."

"I don't see how," she cried, letting out the emotions she had been trying to bottle up for Oliver's sake, "William is gone. He was just a kid... and he's gone. And Oliver... I don't know how to help him, mom."

Donna rubbed soothing circles into Felicity's back, resting her chin on top of her daughter's head.

"You just be you, darling. He married  _you_. He could have picked anybody but he picked you. I know you'll figure it out. I can only imagine what you two are going through, I've never been through it. Thank the heavens. But it's up to you to figure out how the two of you can help each other through this. Please, just make sure you're taking care of yourself too."

"I am, mom. I promise."

A beat of silence carried them for a moment before Felicity spoke up again.

"I called Quentin. I didn't know what else to do."

"Well, sadly, he's probably the best person for this."

They sat there a little while longer and then decided to watch some tv, making sure to avoid the news channels this time. Eventually, Donna had to leave to catch her flight back to Vegas. She asked a million times if Felicity was sure that it was alright. She could reschedule the flight if she had too. Forget the money, Felicity was more important.

"No, I'm good. You've already helped a lot."

"Baby," Donna reached up and pinched Felicity's cheek, "That's my job. You call me if you need  _anything_."

Felicity smiled, "I promise."

It was dark by the time Quentin came home with Oliver. And a miracle happened, Oliver was smiling. He looked like he had definitely been crying a good portion of the time he had been gone but, while his eyes were still puffy, they were no longer wet so it must've been hours ago.

Felicity came over to greet them, giving Oliver a quick peck on the cheek. The trio stood in a circle in front of the door.

"How did it go? How are you feeling?" she asked her husband, grabbing hold of his hand and intertwining their fingers.

"Better," he answered softly.

"Now, listen to me. The both of you," Lance commanded, and the couple instantly looked to him, "Make sure you're eating. Drink a hell of a lot of water. Get sleep. And please, I'm begging you, don't drink."

Oliver nodded, a silent promise,  and Felicity did the same. Quentin offered back a proud smile.

"Alright, well, good. Now, I'm gonna go. I told the council that you wouldn't be back for a while, so I got some mayor stuff to do. And I expect you to take at  _least_ a week. Got it? More if you need it. Anything less and I will personally escort you out, publicity be damned."

Oliver chuckled slightly, reaching out and shaking Lance's hand.

"Yes, sir."

"Sir," he grumbled, turning toward the door, "Good night."

Felicity moved closer to Oliver, standing on her tip-toes to wrap her arms over his shoulders and bring her nose to his, "It went well?"

"Yea," he responded, putting his hands on her waist, "He pointed out some things that I needed to hear."

"Good," she smiled, "Now, I want you to shower. Because you haven't in a while. Did you he feed you?"

When Oliver nodded, she continued.

"Okay, then, in that case, ice cream. And then we are going to bed because I am sure you are just as exhausted as I am."

"That sounds like a pretty sweet deal."

They sat together on the couch, eating out of a pint of rocky road, the blue blanket over their shoulders.

Things weren't okay, they were far from it. And though Felicity doubted things would ever be okay again, she figured they could at least try. For William's sake.


	5. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, the end. Thank you all for coming on my extremely depressing journey. It's been fun.

_"If you can't fly then run,_  
if you can't run then walk,  
if you can't walk then crawl,  
but whatever you do  
you have to keep  
moving forward."

 _-_ Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

\- One Month Later -

There were still bad days. In fact, they outweighed the good ones. But Felicity decided to look at it positively and say that they were having good days again, rather than dwell on the fact that bad ones still came. Whatever Quentin had said that day, Felicity would never know. And it didn't fix everything, not completely. Sometimes Oliver just couldn't get out of bed. Sometimes he forgot to eat or refused to when Felicity reminded him. But it had helped.

He did manage to leave the apartment a few times, whether to take a walk in the park with Felicity or to go to the market and get the weekly groceries. The times he did go, he always came back in a melancholy mood. He kept buying William's snacks out of habit, and it was hard for her to cheer him up again when that happened.

On his good days, he cooked. But most of the time they just ordered out, or Felicity gave it a go. She was getting better with practice and soon she managed to make pancakes without burning a single one.

Quentin came over a few times a week and took Oliver out. She found out later that they were going to a survivor's support group, for parents who had lost their children. Oliver told her that he hadn't shared yet, but just going was helping him work through some things. It was odd, he said, to be in that room where everyone knew who he was and exactly why he was there. But they all made it clear that they would listen when he was ready.

Eventually, he stopped sleeping in William's room. But he didn't return to their bed empty-handed. He brought in Will's backpack and rested it against his bedside table. It helped him sleep at night.

The nightmares became less frequent, but Felicity knew those weren't going away any time soon.

He blamed himself, it was hard not too. Any parent would, especially someone like Oliver. Late one night, after a particularly bad dream, he confessed his sins to the darkness of their room.

"It's always the same. We're in front of City Hall, he's showing me this test that you helped him study for. He was so proud, he'd got a perfect score. And then... I hear the gunshot. I look down, and he's on the ground. He-"

Oliver lost it then. The tears taking control as his chest heaved with the force of each sob. She'd pulled him closer, wrapping her arms as tightly as she could around him, refusing to let go.

"I didn't protect him," he cried, "It's my fault. I didn't protect him."

She hadn't been sure what to say.  _'It's not your fault,'_ had seemed to hollow. So she had just stayed there like that, holding him as he cried, so he would know that he wasn't alone. 

The team continued going out every night to save the city and even talked Felicity into starting back up again. They needed her, they said. John took up the hood, citing that the city needed the Green Arrow in particular, that he was the backbone. Felicity agreed, and so did Oliver. They wanted him to join them, but he said he wasn't ready. That he didn't deserve it.

' _I let my son die,'_ she heard. He was always predictable in what he was thinking, his expression giving him away each time.

Every Friday night, he disappeared for a few hours and Felicity knew he was visiting Willam. He always came back with dirt on his knees and tears in his eyes. He went more often than that, but it wasn't scheduled like Friday night. William had died on a Friday night, and he was marking it.

The city council was harassing Quentin, asking when the Mayor would be back. To his credit, the man managed to keep the council from actually bringing their concerns to Oliver himself, and he was doing more than a fine job filling in. But he could only hold off so long, and finally, Oliver decided it was time to go back. She went with him on his first day back.

That morning, she helped him tie his tie, and placed the pin on his lapel. She grabbed his shoulders and pushed herself up to give him a kiss.

"I'm so proud of you, but are you sure you're ready for this?"

He had simply nodded, and the pair had made their way outside and into the waiting car.

It was a cloudy day, with rays of golden light breaking through to shine directly onto City Hall, bouncing off so as to give the stone building a luminous aura. Felicity's heels clicked as she made her way toward the steps, her hand holding onto Oliver's, transferring whatever strength she had into him. There weren't very many steps, but to her, they appeared infinite. She wasn't surprised when Oliver paused at the bottom of them, staring at the spot in the center where William had died.

She tugged on his hand until he looked down at her.

"You can do this," she whispered, hoping she held enough faith for the both of them. He turned to face front once more, and she watched him take a deep, steadying breath, as he stood tall. Then he took a step forward and they began the climb.

Once inside, they were greeted by a frenzy. Reporters wanting to talk to the Mayor on his first day back after such a long break. He declined to comment, moving through the crowd to get to the elevator. Once on the top floor, he was greeted by a different, more welcoming frenzy as his colleagues welcomed him back with open arms. Many had sent flowers and cards to the apartment during the time that he had been gone, but Oliver hadn't read any of them. Still, he smiled brightly and greeted all of them with a warm handshake.

Then he reached his office, and there was Quentin and Rene, dressed in there best suits, with big dumb smiles on there face.

"So glad you're back, Haus," Rene greeted, "Lance was driving me nuts complaining about all this extra work. Which means extra work for me."

"Yea, well," Lance said, "This job isn't exactly a cake walk."

Oliver walked toward them, shaking both their hands, "I really appreciate everything you've done."

"No problem," the Deputy Mayor responded, smiling and step back from the desk, "Your chair."

He sat down at his desk, and Felicity came to stand by his side, leaning down to ask him softly, "Do you want me to stay?"

"I think I'll be fine. You're behind on work with Curtis," he answered, looking up at her.

"If you need me-"

"Thank you," he smiled, giving her a quick kiss, "I've got this."

Felicity smiled in return, overwhelmed with pride. She was looking at the strongest person she had ever known, and it warmed her heart to see him moving forward despite everything. This was the person she had chosen to spend the rest of her life with and if anyone ever asked, she'd tell them that it was the best decision she had ever made.

"I'll see you tonight," she promised, giving him one more kiss, and then heading for the door.

Later in the evening, Oliver went to one of his meetings with Quentin. When he came home, he sat her down on the couch, and she worried something was wrong.

"I shared tonight," he said, reaching for both her hands and pulling them into his lap, "I told them how I've been struggling to deal with... everything, but that I went back to work today. And that even though it was hard, and it hurt for a while, I felt better at the end. They said that it's good to keep moving forward and that it's all you can really do in a situation like this. But, most importantly, somebody said that it's my job to keep living for William. That, as long as I keep going, he will too. Felicity, I want to wear the hood again."

Shocked, she quickly looked into his eyes, "What? Are you sure?"

His blue eyes were so earnest as he gazed back at her, and she read no doubt there, no hesitation.

"I have to find the people who did this."

Anger.

His sadness had turned to anger.  _Finally_ , she thought as she squeezed his hands tightly. He was finally ready and the poor fools who ever thought they could come after the Queen family and get away scott-free were going to learn exactly how grave their error had been. They'd wish they'd never been born. And she was going to help, be there every step of the way. She wanted to see the looks on their faces. To look them in the eye and see the fear residing there.

"We will," she solemnly swore.

They woke up early the next morning, just as the sun rose, and went for a walk. They admired the sky as it moved through its rainbow of colors until it finally settled on blue. It was going to be a beautiful day. They walked to the cemetery, stopping on the way to get fresh flowers.

Oliver kneeled down in front of the stone that had finally been put on William's resting place, laying the flowers on the dirt before it. He rested his hand on top, Felicity standing behind him, gripping his shoulders reassuringly. It wasn't lost on her that they had stood exactly like this, what felt like an eternity ago, as Oliver apologized to Samantha for failing his mission. He'd make up for it now.

"I'm sorry, William," he whispered to the stone, "It's been hard without you. I know this is my fault. I know you'd tell me not to blame myself, but I'm going to ignore your sound wisdom just this once. Because I am to blame."

She wanted to stop him. Her instinct to protect him took over, to tell him that of course, this wasn't on him. Tell him that he couldn't have known, couldn't have changed anything. But some small part of her knew he had to say this, so she remained silent.

"I'm your dad. It was my job to protect you. Anything bad that happens to you is on me. And I know that I will never be able to fix this, but I can try. I'm going to keep trying, because I know that's what you would want me to do. I owe you that much. And I wasn't ready to go on before. I couldn't see a way how..."

He trailed off, reaching down to run his fingers along the stone where it read ' _Willaim Clayton'._ She knelt down beside him so that she could wrap her arms around him and pull him close. They both remained silent for a while, looking at the headstone and wishing things could have gone any other way but this. But they couldn't change the past, they could only shape their future.

"But I'm ready now."

 


End file.
